Another Snoggletog Story
by the-Paigey-pooh
Summary: Astrid brings out the long-forgotten yaknog to Hiccup's dismay. How can he convince her that yaknog will never be a favorite? And what happens when their daughter trys to bring a dragon egg out of the hatchery? Hiccup/Astrid, OC kidlets, and HTTYD mayhem!


"Astrid, there's something I really need to tell you…" Hiccup ventured, cautiously as his wife entered the room carrying a shield topped with 'beverages'.

She hummed a muted Snoggletog tune and all but ignored the russet haired young man as she busily cleared the counter-top in front of her.

"Astrid…" Hiccup said, louder this time.

There was still no reply as she was distracted by the couple's seven year old twins cascading down the log-carved staircase; bickering as usual.

"That's _my_ helmet, Salmon! Odin is supposed to put _my_ goodies in it tomorrow!" Trout, the boy, protested to his sister, who appeared quite distraught.

Salmon reached for the battered metal helmet Trout was keeping from her. She glanced down at her father, who gave her a debonair smile, complete with her inherited gapped teeth.

"Daddy!" she began with a flutter of her blue eyes, "tell Trout that that's my helmet, and he has to give it to me."

Hiccup looked down at her, and back-up at Astrid who shrugged, still nonchalantly humming. Sighing, he looked back down at his daughter, rubbing the back of his neck in thought.

"That's Trout's helmet, Sammy. But you can use my old one if you like." He delegated, tousling her red-brown bangs before she had a chance to pout.

Glancing back over at his wife, to weigh on his decision, he was reminded of the ensuing catastrophe before him: yaknog.

It was a tradition that his wife had implemented many years ago, before they had even married, and it was the first Snoggletog in which Berk celebrated the annual hatching of the village's baby dragons. With some mishaps of course; no one had yet discovered before the holiday that the eggs explode, but that knowledge would have helped to prevent many a bodily injury or domestic damage…

She seemed to have forgotten her own (failed and miserably agonizing) tradition, but something seemed to have jogged her memory.

With Toothless occupying the twin's attention, Hiccup sidled over next to his wife, who was still oblivious to his horror-stricken reaction to the beverages.

Gulping and averting his eyes from the volatile liquid, he placed a tender hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, Ast, do you mind if I, uh, ask you a question about the *gulp* yaknog?" he inquired tentatively.

She nodded, still in a happy holiday haze, and extended quickly on her tip-toes to greet her husband's freckled cheek with a kiss.

"Is this, by any chance, the same recipe from all those years ago?"

Astrid pursed her lips. "As far as I can tell." She replied, shrugging.

She gave him a sideways glance, and a small look of recognition crossed her face.

"Hey, I know what's going on here…" she began.

Hiccup attempted a casual façade, and he meandered to the opposite side of the counter, fiddling with his son's discarded helmet, trying to avoid her gaze.

She moved in closer, though, leaning across the counter-top next to his blushing face, one eye-brow suspiciously raised.

"You just can't wait to try another mug, can you? Well, you don't have to worry about that, because I'm making a whole batch for the Snoggletog banquet tonight!" She said, catching Hiccup off-guard with her perky retort.

Hiccup blinked, and then flinched instinctively at the sight of the yaknog in its pitcher. He had to talk her out of it. Her cooking could be tolerated. But he _was not_ going to have yaknog shoved down his throat on his favorite holiday. And he'd rather it not be consumed by his kids, or anyone else's for that matter.

But he hated talking her down from the clouds when she was so confident in it. It would ruin _her_ holiday.

Still…

Something had to be done.

Astrid had arrived early to set up the refreshments booth with her Nadder, Stormfly. Also along with her for the preparations were her two daughters, Salmon and ten-month old Pearl.

The lantern and wreaths had been ornamented and hung about the Mead Hall, and the vast chamber was sheathed in the comfortable glow of Snoggletog cheer.

Astrid loved this holiday. She especially loved it when she could enjoy it without the constant threat of a dragon raid, and instead get to see the tiny Nadder hatchlings. And she was glad that this was the way the holiday would be remembered and carried on by her own children; which was why she felt she needed to instill family traditions in them as soon as possible.

Salmon wasn't all too happy about having to learn how to mix the contents of yaknog to make it less chunky to the taste, but no matter how hard she tried, such a thing could not be accomplished.

And by the looks of her father's grimaces, he wasn't too happy about the prospect of yaknog _period_.

But she didn't want to waste time on that now. As her mother was busily rearranging items on the little stand to make it look appetizing (which the young girl thought was the most futile task she had ever seen) she snuck off to the hatchery.

The hatchery was first thought up by Salmon's father before she was born to keep the dragon's eggs safe and to keep the parents themselves on the island.

Because no Viking wanted to be without their best friend on Snoggletog; this was something the villagers of Berk had learned all too well.

Inside the hatchery, which was unused for most of the year, there was an intricate system of wells, which would fill with heated water. They were built to model the irreplaceable hot springs found on the island where most of the eggs were normally hatched.

Salmon always felt a sense of security and love as she socialized with the dragon's ambling about the hatchery. She teased a Terrible Terror, and played tag with a Zibbleback. Salmon cuddled with a Nightmare, and gave a Gronckle a pleasurable belly-rub.

And in her wanderings, she found herself in the back corner of the expansive hatchery, where there sat a lone egg, not yet hatched.

Salmon poked at it curiously, wondering why it was not under the watchful eye of its parent or in the hay bales like some of the other eggs. Its breed was indeterminable, but she found she needed to know in order to return it to its parent.

Just as she had picked up the egg, the hatchery door swung open and her grandfather's booming voice filled the room.

"Salmon Valkyrie Ginger Haddock! Your mother has been having conniptions looking for you!" Stoick bellowed and blustered as Salmon meekly ran up to him, apologizing with her eyes.

He led her out of the hatchery, ranting and raving about how worried everyone had been and how irresponsible it was that she should run off without permission; never acknowledging that his granddaughter was wielding an egg half her size as they proceeded up the steps to the Mead Hall.

Plopping the egg at her father's foot, Salmon gave him a toothy and lop-sided grin of innocence.

"That's a hefty-looking egg, Sam. Why isn't it in the hatchery with the other eggs?" he said, raising an eyebrow accusingly and kneeling down to her level.

Salmon appraised him with another smile, and replied jovially, "'Cause I took it out of the hatchery."

Hiccup sighed. "You have to take it back, Salmon. If that thing hatches here…" he said, not finishing, but wagging his finger indicating she knew better.

No sooner had he said it that the egg released a whine, and glowed bright crimson. With a shudder and a pop; the egg hatched.

_**Piiirrrr-BOOM!**_

With a crash and an exclaimed obscenity, the newly hatched dragon sailed right into the yaknog stand, now fully decorated and stocked.

Hiccup, who had hastily dragged his daughter away from the detonation, winced at the predicted shrieking he heard from the dilapidated ruins of the yaknog stand.

"_Son of a rat-eating, worm-ridden- _By Odin, what it that thing doing in here?"

"Sorry Mommy!" Salmon said, but she was giggling in her father's grasp.

The disoriented hatchling looked up from where it had landed underneath the toppled table to see an absolutely seething Astrid peering down at him.

Cringing, the little creature backed away as Astrid lamented the loss of the mugs and their contents as they had been smashed to pieces on the floor. It stepped in the sticky substance of yaknog as he back-pedaled, slipping around in the puddle, observing it carefully.

Salmon gagged as the dragon sniffed at it curiously. Her father was too busy trying to console her mother to notice when the hatchling took a tentative slurp.

Her stomach roiling, Salmon's face pinched into pure disgust and then astonishment when she discovered that the dragon was _enjoying_ it.

"Daddy, look!" she exclaimed, ere the young dragon let out a foul smelling belch.

Hiccup turned away from the broken mugs and fretful wife to see the scaly creature slurping and burping amongst the puddle of yaknog.

"-and now, everyone who hoped to enjoy it will be so disappointed." Astrid said, but turned when Salmon gave her a quick poke in her back; swiveling to face the spectacle.

Hiccup laughed, offering Astrid his hand.

"See, Astrid. That little fella is getting to enjoy your yaknog." He chuckled.

Astrid smiled; no matter what had happened, nothing tugged your heart strings like a baby dragon slipping and sliding beneath you.

"He's the _only_ one…" Salmon muttered.

Astrid tensed. "Salmon, I'll have you know that just because you're so picky, doesn't mean that quite a lot of people think it tastes just fine. Isn't that right, Hiccup?"

Hiccup bit his lip, and his eyes circled away from his wife's adamant gaze.

"About that…" he began.

But she didn't let him finish. "So, you're telling me you _lied_ to me?" She said, her mouth agape and her blue eyes flaring.

Hiccup blushed, feeling cornered. "Well, I-uh, when you put it that way…"

"Well, why didn't you just tell me in the first place?" she said, stomping her boot.

Salmon watched on amused.

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings. And I still don't! But frankly, Astrid… it tastes terrible." Hiccup confessed, uncomfortably.

Astrid looked down at the dragon, who was still slurping up the yaknog messily.

"_He_ doesn't seem to think so." She said, gesturing emphatically to the little hatchling.

Hiccup shrugged, pondering something.

Astrid crossed her arms, disappointed in what had happened, and in her failure to produce something people actually wanted to eat.

Meanwhile, Salmon giggled as a Terrible Terror alighted on the over-turned table, drawn to the aroma of the yaknog. He cocked his head, watching the little dragon feasting. It hopped down from the table and shot out its tongue into the puddle, and, surprisingly, savored the taste.

"That's it!" Hiccup said, grabbing Astrid's shoulder.

"What's it?" she asked, with a hint of annoyance.

"The dragon's like the yaknog… but Thor knows Vikings don't." he pointed out, shuddering.

"Your point?" Astrid inquired, perplexed.

"You want to carry on some sort of tradition, and we don't want anything to do with the yaknog. So, ere go, you should just feed it to the hatchlings." Hiccup explained.

Salmon nodded smiling. "Instead of to us!" she said, and Astrid couldn't help but smile.

She rolled her eyes, feigning disagreement, but finally she sighed.

"Fine, if you want nothing to do with it, I suppose I will just give it to someone who does." Astrid conceded, to the obvious delight of her husband and daughter.

So, the lesson goes, friends, on your next Snoggletog, don't enforce the consumption of volatile yak-inspired drinks.

But, do, however, celebrate the more important things, like passing on traditions that make the holiday special to you.

Happy Snoggletog, everyone!


End file.
